Reflections On A Reunion Past Custom has it that New Year’s Day is a time for reflection; reflection on those events both large and small which shaped the year now gone. While for me – as is the case, no doubt, for most –there were the normal ups and downs of family life, health, and profession, one of the different events of 2014 was the 50th Reunion of the Class of 1964. It’s somehow amazing that conversations with close friends can be picked up almost as they were left then; as if a comma had been inserted instead of the passage of a half century. It mattered not whether the hair was a little grayer or perhaps a little less, or whether the “Freshman 15” had stealthily turned into the “Senior Citizen 30.” Our collective experiences have literally covered the globe and changed each of us in ways unimaginable in 1964, yet in some ways parts of the same eighteen year olds returned to Val’s on September 20th. And that brings me to teenage angst. Don’t get me wrong. The happiness, and in some cases – downright relief- of seeing old friends and meeting new ones far outweighed anything even remotely negative. And the revisit of a teenage boy’s insecurities was in some ways bittersweet, as though filtered through the eyes of American Grafitti, Happy Days, or the Wonder Years. But it was there nonetheless – the slightly sweaty palms, perhaps a barely noticeable stammer when standing next to someone whom I thought special five decades ago (those who knew, and those who never did). In some ways I could only be amused by my own reaction. After all, over the past five decades I’ve enjoyed a successful career, a wonderful marriage (the second one; the first, not so much), and the indescribable happiness of children and grandchildren. I’ve lived through situations which have ranged from disturbing, to dangerous, to downright deadly in a few cases. Through all of those my mantra has been “no sweat.” And yet speaking of which, I had to wonder – as I often did in 1960-64 – whether the Ban roll-on was doing its thing quite as it was designed to do. As I said, “Insecurities.” Remember the Friday night dances? In my mind’s eye I can geographically divide the gymnasium into the girls’ side, the boys’ side, and a highly dangerous demilitarized zone in the middle which some might describe as the dance floor. For it was there, if I dared do so at all, that I got to demonstrate the total absence of any ability whatsoever (despite Miss Magwood’s efforts at instilling same). Worse yet, and before even being allowed to display my own incompetence, I actually had to cross that foreboding, open dancefloor and invite someone to have their feet trod upon for two or three minutes. And then there were the invites to proms and other special occasions. Who knew that passing by a certain someone’s locker five times each day, in hopes of catching her without a coterie of giggling friends nearby, could be such good exercise if not an altogether successful tactic? But you know what? I survived – WE survived, and on the right side of the grass, more importantly. So it was truly great to see you all at the reunion. For all of us, with and without angst (or the willingness to admit it), let’s do it again in five! Happy New Year.
Posted on: Sun, 04 Jan 2015 17:56:16 +0000
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